


Signs of Affliction

by Emiline



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Crack, F/M, Pining, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Molesly/Isobel, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2018-09-15 16:31:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9244430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emiline/pseuds/Emiline
Summary: She mustn't know. Not now, not ever.





	

“Molesley,” Isobel Crawley calls him back as he is about to retreat for the evening, “are you quite well?”

“Yes ma’am,” he replies, confused.

“Only you’ve been rather jumpy ever since I came back from France. You stutter, you fidget and you’ve nearly dropped the tea pot three times this week,” she continues.

He feels sweat collecting on his brow and in the palms of his hands.

“I kn-know ma’am,” he manages, cursing himself internally. “I’m very sorry, I won’t let it happen again.”

He can’t tell her. He _won’t_. She must never know, he’d be out on his ear without a job and probably without references. She is generous, but he doubts her generosity would extend to this. He’s too old to start over.

“I’m more worried about you than the teapot. If you’re ill, you ought to let me or Major Clarkson examine you.”

He gulps quickly, heart racing, as images rise unbidden to his mind—her hand reaching out to gently stroke his cheek—no! He will not allow himself these thoughts, not now.

“I can assure you I am not ill, ma’am,” he reaffirms, a touch of panic in his voice.

Mrs Crawley eyes him.

“You look rather flushed Molesley.”

Before he has time to process what is happening, she is closing the distance between them, and the back of her hand is on his forehead. She frowns, and he wonders if she can hear the thudding of his heart as it races away.

“You don’t seem to have a fever,” she says, and to his horror grabs his wrist. He desperately wishes he could tear away but that would never do. His breath comes in quick, shallow gasps.

“Molesley, your pulse—“ she cries but he hears no more as he crumples to the ground.


End file.
